


The Crows Were (Not) Right

by Quinny_Imp



Series: A Wolf and Three Crows [11]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: Gen, Multi, Red Lyrium, Zevris
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-24
Updated: 2019-08-24
Packaged: 2020-09-25 19:15:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20376724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quinny_Imp/pseuds/Quinny_Imp
Summary: Is caring for someone a weakness or a strength? Zevran is just about to re-discover that truth.





	The Crows Were (Not) Right

**Author's Note:**

> Written for #August2019 @ Amino challenge: Weakness. 
> 
> I'm not particularly happy with it, but since the challenge managed to punch through my writer's block, I decided to share it anyway.

“Sloooow down!” Nadami moaned.

“Hmm?” Zevran turned around, and recalled she’d already asked him twice to slow his pace. “Need to replace your feet with a new pair, mi amora?” They walked most of the day, and apparently her old shoes were too worn out to protect her from little rocks that littered the path through the forest.

She glared at him. “I need to replace you,” she grumbled.

He laughed, and resumed walking. He could hear her taking a breath to shout, so before she uttered another word, he slowed down again.

He glanced at Fenris, who seemed amused by the whole exchange. His heart fluttered; even the smallest smile brightened grumpy elf’s frown, and made a significant difference.

“Maybe we should try to find a spot for the ni–” Fenris began, but then silenced. He inclined his head slightly, listening to something. “There’s someone nearby,” he whispered.

All alert now, the trio grouped close together, and listened. There clearly were sounds of a conversation – although too far away to make out the words – and some other clutter – of metal and fabric. Weapons and tents?

“Let’s check this out,” Zevran whispered. Friend or foe, they needed to know, especially if they planned to make a camp for the night in the vicinity.

Without a word, fully co-ordinated, they left the path, and went through the thicker part of the forest to hide their presence. They had to be fairly close to the other people, since the sounds were a lot louder, when Fenris bent over with a painful moan.

Zevran stopped, and turned to see what happened. The other elf curled up on his heels, trembling, clearly in a lot of pain. Nadami hovered over him, but didn’t dare to touch him. His lyrium was glowing, and she either didn’t want to cause more pain with her touch, or get hurt by his ghostly nature. She looked at Zevran with a hopeless expression.

But he didn’t know what to do either. For a moment he stood there with his eyebrows drawn together in a painful frown. He felt almost like Fenris’s suffering was his own. He was paralysed by his inability to bring relief to his love. If he only could, he’d take that pain on himself, but he was powerless. Useless.

He raised one of his hands higher, as if trying to touch Fenris, not sure what to do. He saw it trembled.

“Mi amor?” His voice shook just like his hand.

If he could assassinate the pain, he would, but… there was nothing he could do, and he felt like something was tearing him up inside. Jumbled thoughts gave way to growing panic, and he realised his feelings for the Tevinter tied down his ability to act. Overwhelmed by the other elf’s pain, he was unable to do anything, to move, to think. All he could do was watch, and feel shame at his pathetic weakness.

That’s why the Crows had tried to teach him to make his heart cold and unfeeling. Attachments were dangerous. Attachments could kill.

He looked toward the sounds. There were still these people over there, still a potential threat.

Feeling guilty, as if he was abandoning Fenris, he went closer to that camp. Maybe those people could help. Maybe he could kill them, and take their things that could help, if they were unwilling to share.

He sneaked close, hid in bushes, and moved branches aside to see. What he saw froze him for a moment.

A creature. A person? It looked like a slouched forward monster in Templar armour. With red crystals poking through its skin. Another one – more human-like – approached it. Also had red crystals sticking from its skin. They talked. They moved away, and went to a cart that was filled with red crystals. They looked like lyrium, but red.

Lyrium!

Was this thing the cause of Fenris’s pain? Were they responsible for his suffering?

Before Zevran knew, he was out of the safe bush, charging the armoured monster. It drew its sword, while the other one raised its shield. Now, being closer, the Antivan recognised they were humans, just with that strange red lyrium poking out and covering them.

He slid to the ground, kicking at their knees. There was no way he could overpower two humans clad in knight plates, but he never went for a fair fight anyway. They fell in a heap, he rolled reaching for his daggers, and quickly stabbed them in the most vulnerable spots. He could feel one of the blades sliding on something hard. Not armour, not bones. Crystals.

Barely aware of it consciously, he felt rather than saw another one behind him. Holding his blade like an extension of his arm, he swept back to buy himself some time. He rolled forward not to be caught between both groups of enemies, and turned to face them, ready to strike. The newcomer charged at him, but his small stature, light clothes as opposed to heavy armour of a Templar, and cunning guided him toward victory. He easily avoided the big, slow sword, thrust one of his daggers right under the chest piece of the enemy’s armour, then pulled it out with a nasty, wet sound. Blood gushed, but he paid it no attention. All he wanted to know was if the target was dead.

Someone grabbed him from behind. He felt his legs kicking the air, as he struggled to free himself. He felt an arm wrapping around his neck, so he stabbed it multiple times before it could trap, immobilise, and strangle him.

The rest of the fight was mostly a blur. His rage growing, his thoughts bouncing between his current predicament here, and Fenris not far curled up in pain. He wanted all these weird lyrium monsters dead, and his love safe and pain free.

He barely felt their weapons cutting his skin. He scarcely registered their shields creating bruises on his arms. He hardly realised he cut himself with his own daggers in the fighting frenzy. He needed to protect Fenris, and that was the only thing that mattered.

Finally the forest heard his triumphant cry.

“Ha ha ha!” he laughed out loud, throwing his arms up in victory over his enemies bodies.

Then he ran back to Fenris and Nadami.

“We need to leave here,” he said. “We need to move further away from this camp.”

“What did you find there?” Nadami asked, while they both tried to help the Tevinter up, and walk.

“Red lyrium. I think it’s the cause of our brave warrior’s fall.”

Fenris grunted. But after a short while he seemed better. He freed his arms from their grips. “I’ll walk,” he mumbled.

Nadami looked at Zevran’s arm. “Are you all right?” she asked, uncovering a cut through ripped sleeve. “This needs to be taken care of.”

“Oh, it’s nothing, mi amora,” he grinned. “I just killed four red lyrium monsters.”

“All by yourself?” she asked with a smile of admiration.

“What can I say? I’m as skilled an assassin, as handsome, no?”

She smiled at him. “You’re unbeatable, when you care.”

Surprised at her words, he looked back at Fenris. The Tevinter still seemed a little uncomfortable, but much better. He gave the Antivan a weak smile.

He’d thought his love for Fenris made him useless. But what it really did, was give him strength to protect him.


End file.
